


trade your heart for bones (come back home)

by redhoodsrobin (manatsuko)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmates, Touching, Trope Subversion/Inversion, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-08 15:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manatsuko/pseuds/redhoodsrobin
Summary: Like a force of nature, Dick Grayson's presence couldn't be ignored without risk of injury, or at the very least, bruising Jason's dignity.(A non-traditional soulmate AU)





	trade your heart for bones (come back home)

**Author's Note:**

> aka 'a 5+1 fic that became too vague to be an actual 5+1 fic but fuck it I'm keeping the format'
> 
> For those that ended up here on accident because they follow me and are waiting on an update for my other WIP's: I'm sorry I promise I'll have a new chapter up for those within the next two weeks. For now though, I basically got convinced to write something for this shipweek so....
> 
> Title from [ Lauv - Come Back Home ](https://youtu.be/wrSTjZqocCM)

 

Jason thought it was best for all parties involved if he ignored the existence of this whole 'soulmate' business. It served no purpose anyway, and the concept itself was unnecessarily complicated and vague to start with.

 _Soulmates_ sounded like a bunch of childish fairytales; something only naive fools believed in. What else was he supposed to call something that was only ever described as a feeling, a sense of _belonging_ so strong that you just knew when you touched one another? No matter how movies and novels tried to dress it up and proclaimed the notion romantic, it was nonsense.

Jason had felt plenty of things from plenty of people in his life - _lives_ \- and safe to say, none of them came close to the big moment everyone talked about. There'd been no _knowing_ from the brush of a hand or embraces that felt like he'd finally come home.

Besides, he knew better than to think that _soulmate_ was synonymous with _love_. Romantic, platonic, whatever.

His parents had been as far removed from 'meant to be' as one could get. Yet for some reason, his mother had stayed, and kept staying, until his father was the one that didn't. He still wasn't sure if he was grateful or not, but sometimes he did find himself missing her. She wouldn't have won any awards for mother of the year, but she'd tried. Whenever she could, she would smile at him, run her fingers through his hair, hug him. Whenever she could, she cared. It was more than Jason could have said of most people. For all that the memory of her was laced with bitterness, there were kind moments, and warmth.

Ironically, when he looked back on his time living at the Wayne estate, the resemblance to his first home was uncanny. Not on the surface, obviously - nobody in their right mind would dare compare a dingy apartment in the Narrows to Wayne Manor. No, their similarities lay in the way they made Jason feel.

_Almost-loved._

_Almost-safe._

It had been a promise of better things to come, before the cracks started to show.

Then, from one night to the next, lost was the sense of infinite possibilities the house had once held, and in its place came regrets and what-ifs. Feelings that lingered, long after that first time he returned to Gotham. The memory of _almost-home_ had lost its edge over the years, but left only hollow spaces in its wake.

Jason didn't like to dwell on those parts of his past. It wouldn't make any difference, after all. But neither did he want to think about whatever unfortunate person would've been his soulmate, or heaven forbid, still _was_ his soulmate.

He couldn't imagine them liking the person he'd become.

What would there even be left for them to find underneath Jason's skin, if they ever managed to track him down? Maybe, if they were lucky, they'd know not to look for him. He heard once that certain people versed in the mystical arts could see the strings that tied others together. Those were the lucky few who got a head start and were able to _see_ , without having to _touch_. They could stay away if they chose to, and none would be any the wiser.

If his soulmate never found him, they wouldn't have to deal with Jason avoiding them like the plague, as if their touch itself was poison. Because to him, it might as well be.

It had been years since he'd been brought back; years since the sickly green glow of the Lazarus Pit had seeped into his marrow and carved out the parts of him that clung to fairytales and make-believe happy endings.

After the Pit, _touch_ became one more thing to avoid.

Because either there was nothing, or there was hurt. Simple as that.

Jason had learned to live with it. He'd never been never been the touchy-feely sort among friends, and strangers were easily brushed off. It only took a glare here, a well-timed remark there.

It was, as always, Bats that gave him the most trouble.

A few months ago, in the aftermath of a joint mission that had left him exhausted and aching, he'd been careless. His body had acted on auto-pilot, and as he accepted Bruce's outstretched hand and his mind blanked out with pain - unlike any before, like dying again, like drowning - he promptly decided _never again_. The resulting headache had throbbed in the back of his skull for days on end, sparks dancing along his nervous system, reminiscent of cold metal swinging down on already-broken bones and torn skin.

Jason didn't want to know what Batman thought of his less than stellar reaction to a simple handshake. He wondered if his touch had hurt Bruce as well. A small voice in the back of his mind selfishly hoped it did. 

He hadn't stuck around much after that. Show up when asked or needed, do whatever he was there for, leave, repeat. None of the other family members had really tried to approach him since he came back, anyway. Jason planned to keep it like that.

Aside from the obvious tension that his different approach to the whole vigilante shtick caused, there was the risk of slipping up if they got too close.

Chances were, touching any of them would hurt. A lot.

And as much as he joked about B's detective skills, he didn't want the Bat sniffing out a possible weakness of his.

Keeping his distance was definitely the best course of action.

 

 

1.

Of course, his well-laid plan of avoidance didn't account for the sheer amount of ridiculous accidents that came with the vigilante lifestyle. One moment was all it took to make his intentions fly out the window.

A fifteenth-story window, to be exact.

Getting smashed into the concrete floor head-first after a freaky monster's five-inch claws had already torn through his jacket and gloves had been bad enough on its own. But hurtling through the air without a grapple gun? Yeah, it was just proving to be the icing on the cake that was this shitty day.

So without much options in the 'preventing my second untimely demise' category, grabbing on to whatever was in reach had been a no-brainer.

Unfortunately for Jason, that meant he hadn't taken his _predicament_ into consideration when Nightwing had swung down after him, and closed his bare hand around Jason's wrist. He spared a passing thought to how impressive, yet worrying it was that those claws had cut through even the Nightwing suit's reinforced fabric in the first place, before every muscle in his arm tensed up in agony.

At first, Jason thought that the monster's punch had managed to dislocate his shoulder, but no dislocated shoulder had ever felt like _this_. Like the entire left side of his body was covered in third-degree burns.

It took a few seconds for his brain to kick back into gear, though muscle memory alone kept him clinging on for dear life. When he eventually regained enough of his senses to _move_ , he caught a quick glimpse of Dick's expression - jaw tense, brows scrunched up into a frown, lips pressed together in a tight line - and felt a sudden stab of concern.

What if he had suffered through the same sensation where his skin met Jason's?

In hindsight, it was a stupid thought.

They had all been put through the wringer by that point, and more than a few bruises littered Dick's skin. Knowing their luck, the other man also had a fractured rib or two. That alone would be more than enough to explain the way Dick's fingers had closed around Jason's wrist like a vice and _twitched_. Exertion and injuries, nothing more.

Nonetheless, Jason considered his suspicions confirmed. Because while he was grateful for the original Boy Wonder's fast reflexes, _damn_ , his arm itched and tingled for days afterwards.

 

 

2.

Despite the slowly decreasing animosity between him and Bruce, Jason was hesitant to call himself thankful for the open invitation he'd gotten to stay over at the mansion. Sure, it was useful, though he only ever agreed when a mission had run too late, or if he was injured to the point where getting back to his own safehouse would be impossible. But on the flipside, he didn't feel comfortable in the house, with its pristine halls that felt too large and too constricting all at once.

He couldn't get rid of the niggling thought that there were just too many people around. Because when he stayed over, he was rarely the only one.

The demon spawn was always around - if not, all the more reason to be worried - but he mostly left Jason to his own devices.

Tim was a mixed bag, but at least he understood the importance of boundaries and having time to yourself. So Jason usually didn't mind too much when Tim walked into a room Jason was already occupying and plopped down onto the nearest couch, laptop in hand. When quiet, they actually got along fine. Their rapid-fire trade of snarky remarks was more fun, but _that_ usually resulted in one of them needing to leave the room before things escalated into an all-out fight.

Which would be pretty counter-productive to this _getting along_ tactic Jason was trying.

Alfred was the same as he'd always been, and while Jason appreciated his dinner invitations, he really wasn't ready to sit at the same table as the rest of them. Whether suspicious or merely observing, being on the receiving end of Bruce's not-so-subtle _looks_ was always unsettling and sure to ruin his appetite.

And then there was Dick.

Like a force of nature, Dick Grayson's presence couldn't be ignored without risk of injury, or at the very least, bruising Jason's dignity.

The chances of seeing him at the mansion were slim outside of the Cave most days, but that made it all the more obvious that when he did stay over, he was _everywhere_.

As soon as it had become clear that Jason staying at the mansion wasn't a fluke, but a semi-regular thing, Dick made it a point to find him and coax him out of wherever Jason had holed himself up. It didn't matter if he stayed down in the Cave, went to find a quiet spot in the library, or hell, just entered one of the guest rooms so he'd have a place to clean his guns without being looked at sideways.

Nowhere was safe.

Sooner or later Dick would track him down and convince him to join him for breakfast, or lunch, or to help him set up his training equipment. Little things that Jason had no real reason to refuse, but required him to interact with the others nonetheless.

One morning, there had been Barbara smiling at him over pancakes, Tim half-asleep and staring into his mug like it held the secrets of the universe.

Another day, Alfred's fond look as Jason dragged a particular heavy piece of machinery around while Dick laughed at him.

Bruce, always studiously ignoring their banter, typing away at the Cave's computer as they set up training equipment, the brat on their heels.

And Dick himself, who was possibly one of the most tactile people Jason had ever met. Trying to ruffle Damian's hair. Putting a hand on Tim's arm whenever he got stuck on a case. Jason wasn't sure if Dick even realized he was doing it most of the time, but it set him on edge. He could deal with the random brush of shoulders in the hallway, or the occasional pat on the back, because he made sure to always wear long-sleeved shirts. No chance of skin contact, no pain.  

Then again, Jason already knew that Dick wouldn't hurt him on purpose. If anything, Dick would be horrified to learn why Jason had become so hyper-aware of his presence and distance to his person. That didn't change the fact that the ghost of Dick's touch alone was enough to make Jason - involuntarily - recoil.

Jason hated it.

It was an irrational reaction.

It hadn't even been Dick's fault. He didn't know that Jason had come back to life _wrong_. For all Dick knew, Jason felt the same thing he himself did, whatever that may be.

So Jason forced himself to stand still when Dick came too close, too fast. He made an effort to not shake off the other's hand or lean away from his side.

The worst part was that Dick had definitely noticed.

He wasn't stupid, and Jason knew he wasn't as subtle as he should have been. But Dick didn't ask, so Jason didn't explain. They just went on dancing around the elephant in the room.

And yet.

Despite the upset look Dick got in his eyes whenever Jason was just a split second too late to hide his flinch, despite the way Jason would tense up as soon as Dick walked into a room, despite all the reasons Dick should have stopped approaching Jason by now - he hadn't.

And though Jason didn't have all of his own physical reactions under control yet, he had said nothing to deter Dick either.

If Dick did end up touching bare skin again, he already knew it'd hurt. But he kept coming back despite the risks.

Because the truth was, he no longer minded if he felt drained after every visit, or if every forced conversation with Bruce left a bad taste in his mouth.

He wanted distance, he wanted to _not hurt_.

He also wanted to be _here_.

Because misery loves company, and Jason would make it work, somehow.

 

 

3.

Eventually, the day came where Dick had gotten comfortable enough with him to initiate casual contact more often, and Jason was in hell.

So far Jason had managed to avoid actual skin-to-skin contact, thankfully, but there'd been more than a few close calls. The time on patrol when Dick decided to cup his hand around the back of Jason's neck, affectionately and _without a damn warning_ , Jason's heart had somersaulted up to his throat.

The subsequent rush of adrenaline had made him light-headed, though he remained unsure if it was the near-contact that had caused him to lash out at Dick, or something else entirely. Such as the fact that someone had gotten so close to a spot as vulnerable as Jason's neck without him noticing.

Dick had taken off swiftly after that particular verbal fight, though he showed up at Jason's latest safehouse three days later to apologize.

Which put Jason way out of his comfort zone. He hadn't expected an apology, because, well-

No matter how you looked at it, Dick hadn't done anything wrong here. Jason was the one that had overreacted and provoked Dick.

And even so, once he'd cooled down, he came to Jason's doorstep with a sheepish smile on his face and bags of takeout food in his hands, because that was just the type of person Dick Grayson was.

Jason sighed.

"I get it, stop apologizing and come in already."

"Thanks. But, I really am sor-" Jason closed the door back in his face.

Dick made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a whine.

"Jason, come on!"

A sharp knock on the door.

"Jay. _Jason_."

Another knock.

"It's freezing out here!"

"Tough luck," Jason said to the door between them ,"You should've thought of that before you came over without a jacket in the middle of winter."

"But what about all this poor, delicious food that's going to go to waste? Think of the food, Jason!"

Jason rolled his eyes as he opened the door again and gestured for Dick to enter. He decided to lead the way, stubbornly pretending he hadn't noticed Dick's pleased grin. The door clicked shut behind him after a few seconds, accompanied by the rustle of Dick moving his bags around.

"So I went to get burgers, but I also picked up some Thai food in case you weren't feeling option number one. What'll it be?"

"I'm tempted to order pizza instead."

Dick gave him a look caught halfway between disbelief and exasperation. Jason grinned.

"The burger's fine, calm down. I'll get drinks."

It should have worried Jason, how easy it was to get along with Dick nowadays. Their conversations had gradualy turned from strained one-sentence replies to playfully arguing over dinner, or commenting on whatever inane show that was playing on the television. In his defense, Jason had only put it on as background noise, but trust Dick to be legitimately invested in reality TV.

"How can you even watch that crap?" Jason grimaced. "It's an overdramatic hot mess at best, a train wreck at worst."

Dick slowly turned his head, looked Jason dead in the eye, and raised a single eyebrow as he replied, "Seems familiar, then?"

Jason nearly choked on a french fry from laughter, and really, that only served to prove the point.

Dick hit him on the back until he stopped coughing, clearly not worried at all about the threat he posed to Jason's health here. His lips were stretched wide, smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners. That expression was what held Jason back from retaliating.

Because he _liked_ seeing Dick's smile aimed at him. It felt like a victory over the expectations people held of him, albeit a small one.

_Take that, shitty life, I can still make the Golden Boy smile._

_Even if I'm not good enough anymore according to the big bad Bat, his perfect son enjoys my presence._

The fabric of Jason's shirt pulled and stretched as Dick's hand gently rubbed circles on his back. He hadn't moved away yet. Jason felt his muscles relax under the attention, before he fully registered the action. He took a deep breath.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Dick asked.

"The whole," Jason waved a hand, unable to put his thoughts into words, "Touching thing."

Dick looked confused, but shrugged. "I can stop, if you want."

"It's not you-" Jason broke off, and shook his head. "Nevermind. Forget I said anything."

"Really, Jay?" Dick chuckled. "The 'it's not you, it's me' approach? I'm hurt, I thought we had something special here."

"Oh shut up, you asshole. That wasn't what I was going to say."

That only served to make Dick grin like the cat that got the canary. Self-satisfied and smug beyond belief.

"Sure you weren't. In all seriousness though, if it makes you uncomfortable, just say the word, and I'll stop."

The sincerity in his voice made something in Jason's chest clench. He groaned in frustration and let himself fall backwards, pressing himself further into the couch and swinging his feet up over Dick's legs in the process. He heard a barely-there yelp, followed by a wholly ungraceful snort as Dick rearranged his own limbs as well.

"Roger that, then."

God, Jason wished he could actually touch him, so, so badly.

Guess that childhood admiration of the first Boy Wonder had never completely gone away after all.

 

 

4.

They could have died.

 _Holy shit_ , they could have died.

The ashes and smoldering ruins around them were a testament to the severity of the danger they had escaped, but it didn't fully sink in until Nightwing came jogging up to him, looking frantic and significantly worse for wear.

"Hood, are you alright?!"

"Yeah," Jason yelled back hoarsely, "Just peachy!"

Which was true, for the most part. Jason might have a slight concussion and a broken leg, possibly a few lacerations as well, but he's had worse.

His fingers fumbled with the clasps of his helmet until he could slide it off. It was promptly dropped to the side. A cough rattled through him, pain jolting down his ribcage. It was a good thing they were upwind from where most of the smoke lingered in the air.

"Can't really get up at the moment though."

Dick dropped down next to him and leaned back against the wall as well, chest heaving.

"We'll have to see about getting you some medical attention then. As soon as I can move again myself."

Jason hummed in acknowledgement. "You wouldn't have happened to see Biz or Artemis, did you?"

They were probably fine, but Jason would feel better once he had confirmation of their whereabouts. Being outside of the immediate danger zone rarely meant the same as being safe in their line of work.  

"Last I heard, Bizarro was over in Star City, helping sort things out there. Artemis is the one who pointed me this way in the first place. Seemed busy though."

"She would've been, yeah. She'll probably still find time to drop by and shout at me later."

"Now you mention it, she did say something about unnecessary risks and you being an idiot."

"That could just as easily describe any other Thursday."

Dick chuckled and let himself sag sideways until most of his weight rested on Jason. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're okay. You got me worried for a second."

"Well, I have to keep things interesting somehow, don't I? Wouldn't wanna be too predictable."

Laughter spilled from Dick's lips, and Jason chose to believe he didn't imagine the relief that echoed within it. "Yes, imagine the horror of that."

Then, Dick pressed his face into the side of Jason's neck - _no, wait_ , _did Dick just fucking nuzzle him_ \- and Jason's breath caught.

It burned. It burned like the aftermath of a grenade, like liquid nitrogen in his veins.

But.

The pain wasn't as overwhelming as it had once been.

Jason was sure there was no nerve damage involved because he _felt it_ , felt the scorch and the tell-tale sting. It just no longer made him double over in agony. It felt almost... _Nice_.

He was so fucked up.

As Jason burst into laughter, he turned to face Dick, nudging him until he could press their foreheads together. And between that red-hot point of contact between them and Dick's arms winding around him to pull him closer, Jason couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this light.

 

 

5.

The heat was unbearable some days.

Blazing trails of fingers sliding down his back, nails scraping over his skin like the edge of a knife.

It no longer _hurt_ but it still _burned_ , it still made his skin feel ablaze, embers dancing in little starbursts behind his eyelids.

It was an addiction of the strangest sort, this feeling, this _urge_ to get closer and bask in its glowing haze.

Every time he caught Dick's hands in his own, every time Dick's thumb traced idle shapes on his jaw or their fingers entwined.

Every hint of teeth at his neck or the swipe of a tongue over his lips.

He melted into the other's touch. He burrowed closer, _deeper_ , chasing after that warmth.

He didn't want to risk losing it.

 

 

+1 

"Hey, Dick."

"Hm?" Dick replied drowsily, already half-asleep.

"What do you feel? When you touch me?"

Bright blue eyes blinked up at him, curiosity piqued. "What brought this on?"

Jason shrugged slightly, brushing a stray lock of Dick's hair back in place. "Just curious."

Dick hummed, obviously doubtful. Jason hated how perceptive he was at times like this.

Slowly, the palm of Dick's hand flattened against Jason's chest. He didn't bother hiding how his heart raced as Dick shuffled closer, until his chin rested in the crook of Jason's neck and their legs were tangled together. He breathed out, the curve of lips whispering into Jason's skin.

"I feel warm."

Jason chuckled at the irony of it all.

For the longest time, there had been a chill in his bones that death had left, settled there, spreading its icy tendrils into his veins inch by inch.

And maybe there was a grain of truth to those soulmate stories after all. Maybe it wasn't something _meant-to-be_ , or _perfect_. Maybe all of it was as fucked up as Jason himself felt some days.

Because even when Dick's touch used to be excruciating, it had never been _cold_.

"You?", Dick asked suddenly, breaking the silence. He sounded more awake then he had any right to be.

Jason pressed a kiss against Dick's temple, drinking up the hint of flames that danced across his lips as he did so.

"Yeah," he answered, "Me too."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a strong advocate of the 'people choose/make their own soulmates by the sum of their actions and free will' idea rather than the 'because fate said so' one. I also like fucked-up bits of angst thrown into my feel-good stories. So here we are. 
> 
> Be kind and please leave a comment for my starving fic-author soul, it's the first time I'm writing for this fandom and I'd like to know how I did :')
> 
> My Tumblr (DC/Marvel sideblog): [ [redhoodsrobin] ](https://redhoodsrobin.tumblr.com)  
> My Twitter: [ [evexe_n] ](https://twitter.com/evexe_n)


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